Wake of the ClosureWake of the Closure
curtains fly as you slip away.
the quiet lingers here again
over my shoulder like a fog:
dark and grey and blinding.
a heavy gloom whispers to me
with a voice i'm required to obey.
i dive deep into pools of sorrow
sweet like old, familiar smells.
my past dangles from my ankles
like wedding cans along the road:
crackling, burning, simmering there
with their big "we miss you" eyes.
i needed so badly to gaze upon you
and press open an unseen smile.
my sickness strangles me lovingly
gathering the happy hurt in my lungs.
flashbacks seed my consciousness.
times in your house and at the park
flicker in my mind's empty theaters.
this new life is just a fucking dream.
it was all just yesterday, it seems.
like tomorrow morning you'll come
and we'll go back to how it used to be.
we'll return to the consistency of old.
oh, god, i'm giving in to the disease.
i'm lying down to be battered by it.
this journey forward has been taxing,
and i cried when you called me "sweetheart"
as you rested your hand at the back
of my head where all the memories gathered
after you'd beaten them back with flames.
i miss your voice, though it had wrapped
me in resentment time and time again.
but i still remember warm blankets of affection
draped around me like your arms had been.
the girl whose voice reverberates now
through the plastic of your phone's head
is a child. she will never be "your helper."
i will always be the best you've ever had.
my jealousy grows spines and pinches
at my eyes and my impulsive fingertips.
i've begun to watch again: searching
for hints that will confirm your misery.
yes, part of me is glad now to see it:
that you're getting what you've deserved.
for so long i had wanted to escape you
and your anvils that weighed upon my back.
i've got someone so much better now.
yes, i say it to you bluntly: sharp.
so who got the short end of the stick?
who's come out on to